


my heart in your hands

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Finger Sucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook loves Archie's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on Nitya, Kathrina, and Tiffany. You guys and your ~ideas!

They’re lying in bed one night, trading soft words back and forth, when Cook asks him –  
  
“What did you notice first about me?”  
  
That’s easy. “Your laugh,” Archie answers, smiling at the memory – Cook with his crazy hair and boisterous laughter, drawing Archie’s attention even from the other side of the room. “Your eyes,” he continues, a little softer, remembering the first time they’d introduced themselves, the pull he’d felt as Cook’s warm hazel eyes had fell upon him.  
  
Cook’s eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles, his palm warm on Archie’s back, over the soft, worn t-shirt he had chosen to wear to bed. “Is that so?” Cook asks, his voice low and a little rough.  
  
Archie nods in lieu of answering, feeling the tell-tale warmth of a rising blush spreading across the bridge of his nose. “What about me?” he asks, curious. “What did  _you_  notice first?”  
  
Cook’s hand migrates from Archie’s back, up along the curve of his shoulder and the nape of his neck. Archie shivers as Cook’s blunt nails rake gently through the short hairs there, the rocker’s fingers eventually drawing to a stop against his cheek, cupping it. “Your smile,” Cook says simply, and unbidden Archie’s lips curl up, settling into the soft smile he always wears around Cook. “And your hands.”  
  
Archie blinks. “My hands?” He lifts one of the limbs in question, the other tucked beneath his pillow.  
  
Cook nods, curling both of his hands around Archie’s; their fingers tangle, palms touch, and a coil of satisfaction warms Archie’s stomach at the sight of Cook’s hands – larger than his own, rougher, the fingers dotted with calluses from years of guitar – tucked securely around his. He’s always loved Cook’s hands, how secure their touch makes him feel, how safe, how  _cherished_. There are moments when Cook touches him like he’s something to be treasured, something precious, his hands soft and warm along Archie’s skin, infinitely gentle. And there are other moments, too, when Cook touches Archie like he’s desperate for him – for his mouth, for his  _skin_. Moments where his fingers will curl over Archie’s shoulder, firm and unyielding, or press into the soft skin of his thighs, leaving behind the imprints of Cook’s fingertips like a brand.  
  
He’s always loved Cook’s hands – how they look, how they make him feel. He’s never given any thought to his own.  
  
“You used to fidget with them,” Cook says, the tips of his fingers brushing softly over Archie’s knuckles. “Whenever you were nervous, or waiting to go on stage. And I would be so distracted, every time I caught you doing it. Could barely focus on anything else.”  
  
Archie glances at his hand, the familiar length of his fingers and the soft skin of his palm, the bumps of his knuckles. “Really? Just from my hands?” He wriggles his fingers a little. He doesn’t see what’s so special about his hands, but the thought that Cook had been distracted by them, especially back on  _Idol_ , makes him smile.  
  
Cook lowers their hands to his mouth, pressing his lips to the curve of Archie’s fingers. “Your hands are gorgeous, babe,” he says, lips brushing over Archie’s skin with each word. Archie’s smile trembles, warmth blossoming in his chest and stomach as Cook continues to press meandering kisses along his hand – quick and light, fleeting brushes of Cook’s full lips to his knuckles. The dual sensations of his soft lips and the slight scratch of his beard against Archie’s skin sends shivers racing up Archie’s spine, and he curls a little closer to Cook’s side, one of his legs slipping absentmindedly over Cook’s hip.  
  
“You think so?” he asks breathlessly, eyes trained on Cook’s mouth.  
  
Cook’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes dark as he catches Archie’s rapt gaze. He turns Archie’s hand over, running his thumb over his palm, digging in as he nears the center. Archie shudders as Cook’s nail drags over his skin, his touch light, teasing. “You have no idea, Archie,” Cook says, straightening Archie’s fingers, running his own callused fingertips lightly over Archie’s skin, “how beautiful they are. Everything about them – how they look, how they feel, what they can do.” He draws Archie’s palm up to his mouth, brushing a lingering kiss over the center. “I love watching you play the piano, or the guitar, watching your fingers move over the strings.” Cook’s lips lift into a sultry smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he brings Archie’s fingers to his mouth. “I love how they feel when you touch me, how they taste… “ He parts his lips against Archie’s index finger, holding Archie’s gaze as he draws it slowly into his mouth.  
  
Archie swallows against the flush of arousal that rushes down his spine at the sight, eyes half-lidded as he watches Cook’s mouth sink down around his finger. The texture of Cook’s beard against his skin, coupled with the warm, wet heat of his mouth sets his stomach to tightening, a familiar heat beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. He curls his free hand in his pillow as Cook continues to draw his finger further into his mouth, gasping at the soft, fleeting touch of Cook’s tongue to his skin.  
  
He breathes Cook’s name, barely realizing he’s spoken at all, completely entranced by Cook’s lips and tongue, the darkness of his eyes as he draws Archie’s finger out of his mouth after a moment, the air rife with tension before he sucks Archie’s middle finger in to join the first. Cook’s tongue rolls over the pads of Archie’s fingers, undulating against the whirls of his fingertips, the curve of his nails, much in the same fashion the rocker tends to swirl his tongue around Archie’s cock whenever he goes down on him.  
  
Archie feels a responding tug in his groin, can feel himself reacting against Cook’s hip, growing hard in his cotton briefs. His toes skim along Cook’s outer thigh, his leg brushing against the growing bulge in Cook’s own underwear, and he bites his lip as Cook’s eyes flutter closed, a guttural groan echoing from deep within his throat.  
  
Gosh, Cook is  _gorgeous_ , his cheeks ruddy with arousal, saliva shining at the corners of his lips, lush mouth stuffed with Archie’s fingers. Heart racing at the sight, Archie lifts himself from the cool sheets, pushing the comforter to the foot of the bed as he climbs over Cook’s hips, straddling him.  
  
Their groins press together, the heat of Cook’s erection searing against his own even through their underwear, and a chorus of groans issue forth from them both, Cook’s muffled by the fingers filling his mouth.  
  
Archie draws in a shaky breath as he settles atop Cook’s thighs, resisting the urge to thrust against the hardness pressed so intimately against his own. He presses his free hand to Cook’s bare chest, fingertips skimming through the dusting of hair as he tries to calm his raging heart. Cook’s pulse pounds beneath his hand, a rapid staccato beat beneath the heat of his skin that echoes Archie’s own frantic heartbeat.  
  
Cook’s eyes flutter open, the hazel nearly overtaken by black, and Archie falls into that sex-drunk gaze with a whimper. His hips stutter of their own accord, a single, shallow thrust against Cook’s clothed cock, and  _oh_ , it’s so good, and he can’t stop himself from doing it again.  
  
Cook chooses that moment to suck hard at his fingers, the sound sloppy and wet and obscene. Archie watches with parted lips as Cook pulls off with a pop, drawing three of Archie’s fingers back into the wetness of his mouth. Cook’s other hand migrates down to Archie’s hip, drawing him forward as his own hips buck off the bed, and Archie mewls as their cocks slide together, feeling wetness beginning to seep through his briefs as they fall into a familiar frantic grind, hips rolling with practiced ease as they chase their pleasure.  
  
Cook’s fingers clench around the curve of his hip, his grip nearly bruising as he draws Archie down against him, again and again until Archie is gasping above him, chasing the friction of Cook’s cock against his, the barrier of their clothing doing little to hinder the pleasure racing up his spine. Cook’s lips and tongue, the slick hot wetness of his mouth sinking down around Archie’s fingers, and the desperate rolling of their hips all combine to send Archie’s release rushing through him within a few breathless moments; he tosses his head back, breath leaving his lips in a trembling sigh as he comes. Cook thrusts against him once, twice more, and then Archie feels him stiffen with his own release. Warmth seeps through their underwear, sweat cooling on Archie’s brow as he falls to Cook’s side with an exhausted hum. His fingers slip from Cook’s mouth with a soft pop.  
  
It takes him a moment to catch his breath, his damp fingers curling against the warm, sweaty skin at the base of Cook’s throat.  
  
“So,” he says eventually, glancing up at Cook with a sated smile, “what was the second thing you noticed about me?”


End file.
